


The Mummy, or, the Dangers of Reading From a Book

by agentx13



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, OT3 if you squint, The Mummy AU, sharon carter month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: Sharon desperately wants to be a wealthy and respected Egyptologist. Sam desperately wants to be wealthy and respected (but will settle for wealthy). They find a map that leads them to a man who can make their dreams come true... if he stops being an asshole long enough to do what they want.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sharon Carter & Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter & Sam Wilson
Kudos: 8
Collections: Sharon Carter Month





	1. Chapter 1

Sharon Carter is destined to be an Egyptologist. This goes directly against what others say, especially other Egyptologists. But she’s meant for adventure. Truly, she is. She feels it in her soul. And what could have more adventure than the mystical sand dunes of a faraway land? She’s studied the place and its history for years. Nothing could be more fascinating than Ancient Egypt. Nothing could make her heart beat as fast. Nothing else could make her feel the heat of the desert. 

Nothing could cause her so much pain, either. “Who even arranges bookcases like that?” she mutters under her breath. 

“What?” Sam says. Both of them are dodging other walkers on the sidewalk. Sharon, for all her upper-crust clothing, is still a woman. Sam, for all his military experience, is still a black man. Even in the modern day of the 1920s, they are not given the right of way on the sidewalk.

She tells him about trying to shelve the book, how the ladder had turned, how she’d lost her balance, and had ultimately knocked down every bookcase in the room. It wasn’t as if it could have gone some other way – the bookcases had essentially been placed like dominoes. “Coulson fired me after that. I guess he had to, even though he had no right.”

“Mm.” Sam’s lips are pressed together as he tries not to laugh at her righteous indignation. “So you probably need cheering up.”

“If you’re suggesting we drink a bar dry, I can go for that.”

Sam shakes his head. That isn’t what he meant. And besides, Sharon isn’t known for holding her liquor. “I was saving it for your birthday, but this is probably close enough.” He nods toward a doorway, and the pair of them duck inside. He pulls a small packet from his pocket. “I haven’t cleaned it up. Guy said he stole it off a guy who’d actually been there.”

“Been where?” Sharon’s eyes are hungry as she stares at the heavy object in Sam’s handkerchief. She’s curious enough that she doesn’t think twice about his mention of theft. To be fair, she probably wouldn’t think twice about it in any other situation, either.

He moves his hand from side to side; Sharon’s eyes follow. “That hammy place you keep talking about.”

“Hammy” she murmurs with a nod, her eyes still following the handkerchief as he moves it around in a large circle. Belatedly, she startles and blinks at him. “You mean _Hamunaptra?_ ”

He shrugs and carelessly tosses her the handkerchief. She jumps to catch it, barely managing to grab a corner before it hits the ground. She shouts as the handkerchief unfurls, and Sam laughs and holds up the object that had been inside. “I know how clumsy you are,” he reminds her.

She rolls her eyes. “And you’re a regular magician.” In short order, she’s staring at the box in his hand.

He moves it around in different patterns, watching as her eyes follow it. “Nope. I’m a very special magician.”

She takes the box. Turns it over and over. The markings are faded but from the right era. The box’s design indicates there’s something inside, and though it’s a little tricky at first, after a couple seconds’ study, she thinks she’s got it. She presses a button, and the top pops open to reveal a piece of parchment.

Sam stops talking, and Sharon realizes he’s been talking the entire time.

She looks at him in confusion. “What did you say? I wasn’t listening.”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. He’s staring at the parchment just as much as she is. “What is that?”

She carefully unfolds it. It isn’t difficult to realize what it is. “It’s a map to Hamunaptra,” she whispers.

“Don’t they have all that money in Hamunaptra?” Sam asks.

Sharon nods. “Treasure. Untold treasures.” She follows the trail on the map and curses under her breath. “There’s a corner torn off.”

“Let me guess,” Sam says. “The corner we need.”

Sharon nods again. “Do you think the person who sold this to you did it?”

Sam shakes his head. “The guy who sold it to me…”

She slowly narrows her eyes at him.

“He might not realize he sold it to me,” Sam says carefully.

She waits for him to elaborate.

“He might not realize he donated it to me,” Sam continues after a moment.

She sighs. “Do you know the guy’s name? So we can talk to him and find out where he got it?”

Sam frowns and absently strokes his short beard. “Barnes,” he says at last. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Awful name,” Sharon says, making a face. 

“Right?”

They stare at the map in silence.

“We’re not really thinking about asking him about it,” Sam says.

“What else are we going to do?” she demands. “Find jobs?”

“But you don’t know where I ran into him,” Sam continues. “Remember that trip we took to Egypt earlier this year?”

Sharon stares at him.

Sam throws his arms wide. “I didn’t know there was a treasure map inside!”

She stares some more. “So what you’re saying is that we’re going to Egypt?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t get the impression that the guy would go farther than the pub, and we were in Egypt at the time, so…”

Sharon looks at the map in her hands and purses her lips. “So we’re going to Egypt.”

* * *

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam says. The quest for a city that may or may not exist has, up to now, included train rides, boat rides, even a plane ride. A terrible plane ride, full of bumps and discomfort. There must be, he thinks, better ways to fly.

“We’ve nothing better to do.”

“I could be finding a real job.”

“Psh. Archeology _is_ a real job.”

He opts not to correct her. Sharon is stubborn. He is, too, actually, it’s just that their stubbornness tends to align. And now they’re in Cairo. A noisy, crowded, unruly Cairo where they’ve both nearly had their pockets picked multiple times. Fortunately, Sam has been raised on his toes, and he’s been quick enough to catch everyone so far.

He isn’t quick enough to realize what the address is for until they’re standing in front of it.

“This is the address the Embassy gave you?”

Sam nods. “Said Barnes is inside.”

“As a... guard? Perhaps?” 

They look at each other.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Sure.”

Neither of them believe it, though. They both know how their luck is.

* * *

They know their luck is bad, but they have no idea how bad. Barnes isn’t a guard in the prison. Far from it. Actually, he’s scheduled for execution. They’re granted a couple minutes to talk with him, during which time he says he’ll take them to Hamunaptra himself if they get him out of here. He also kisses Sharon. Hard. On the mouth. Rudely. She slaps him for it, which he doesn’t seemed to mind, but it _does_ bring an abrupt end to the interview.

They watch him be dragged toward the gallows. Rather, Sharon watches, but Sam looks away and winds up watching Sharon.

“ _No,_ ” Sam says. “You do _not_ piss off people during an _execution!_ ”

“You want to go home empty-handed?”

“I don’t mind going home.”

“Would it be better to go home as we are or established as adventurers?” she asks. “ _Wealthy_ adventurers.”

Sam considers. He is a black man. Wealth and reputation are a form of power. And he needs all he can get. The signs of him relenting are barely visible, but Sharon is already approaching the warden.

In the end, she could have paid more to save Barnes’ life. And perhaps, if he hadn’t kissed her as he had, she would have.

* * *

There are Americans on the boat. At first, this is disturbing because both Sharon and Sam have spent enough time around Americans to know to avoid them. Then it’s disturbing because Barnes - who is also an American and has no more manners now than in prison, even if he is cleaner and his hair shorter and looks significantly better - recognizes one of the men. A man who had been with him at Hamunaptra, and is being paid to guide the Americans there.

“So it’s a race to get there first,” Sharon says. “Isn’t it-”

“Don’t,” Sam warns.

“Exciting?”

Barnes’ lips are quirked, but instead of joining in on her enthusiasm, he says, “This is dangerous.”

“Of course it is,” Sharon says.

“No,” he says, his voice firmer. “This is _dangerous._ Too dangerous for a broad.”

Sam sets an elbow on Sharon’s shoulder. It’s a gesture of familiarity that doubles as a way to keep her from attacking Barnes.

Oblivious, Barnes continues on. “Zola, the guy you saw. He left me to die. Everyone I was with died. And there’s something at Hamunaptra.”

“That’s why we’re going there,” Sharon reminds him. “To find it. According to legend, they’ve got the Book of Amun-Ra there. Made of pure gold. Can you _imagine?_ ”

He shakes his head. “It’s not a book, that’s for damn sure.” Instead of elaborating, he leaves.

She next sees him later that evening, when a fire is raging on the boat and people are shooting at other people. She hadn’t had time to change out of her nightgown when the fire broke out, and she clutches one of her bags to her chest as if she’ll find time to study her notes before they evacuate the ship.

“Americans,” Sam says as he finds her and tugs her along. He says it with an eyeroll as the Americans fire off a volley of shots, but after several seconds fires off some of his own shots, undercutting his judgment of his fellow gunslingers.

“Where’d you get a gun?” she demands.

“I found it. You know. Lying around.”

She knows better than to press and follows him as he tracks down Barnes.

He nods to them both. “Good. You’re both not dead.”

She frowns at him. “Why do you sound disappointed?”

“I’m not. You haven’t paid me yet, remember?” He shoves his bag at her as he reloads his gun, forcing her to drop her own. She has to grab his gun holster and tug hard to get him out of the way of more bullets. With a frown, he remembers that there’s a fully loaded gun in his holster, right next to her hand, and he pulls it out and returns fire against a man in a black cloak.

“Who-”

“Leave now, talk later.” She barely has time to protest at being picked up before he tosses her overboard.

Sam climbs the railing. “I can take myself down, thanks.”

“You don’t want me to carry you?”

Sam makes a rude gesture and jumps over.

Barnes gives a last look at the scene and then jumps after him.

In the aftermath, the Nile and the shores of sand illuminated by the burning and sinking ship, Zola calls from across the river. “Baaaaaaaarnes! Look who’s got all the horses!”

“Zola! Look who’s on the wrong side of the river!”

Zola gets quiet after that, and Barnes walks past Sharon, in a nightdress that clings to her and leaves little to the imagination, and Sam, who hadn’t yet changed for bed and thus isn’t wearing such revealing clothes.

“How long would it have taken him to realize that if you hadn’t told him?” Sam demands.

Barnes pauses, thinking it over. “Right. I’ll keep his idiocy in mind for next time.”

Sam and Sharon look at one another, clearly thinking he’s knew to this, and Sam hands her his jacket.

“Maybe this will be a bonding experience,” Sharon suggests, shivering as she pulls the jacket around her shoulders.

* * *

Sam and Barnes disagree about the bonding, but having to walk to the next town is certainly an experience. They leave fully restocked, sitting atop camels, with new clothes for Sharon, new weapons and bullets for all of them, and food and water. They talk along the way, growing more comfortable with each other as they go, getting a better read on each others’ sense of humor and the topics best to be avoided.

It’s days before he tells them about his time in Hamunaptra. The way the sand itself had shifted underneath him, how it had swallowed soldiers before they were about to kill him. How he’d run for his life with no money and no possessions, how he’d been arrested for theft because as a deserter, there was no other way to make a living.

“So you need the money just as badly as we do,” Sharon says.

“You need money?” He clearly didn’t believe it.

Sharon and Sam look at him with matching expressions of distaste, and he can’t help but laugh. It’s a weird sound, like a hinge on a heavy door rusted from disuse and swinging open for the first time in years.

* * *

They top a dune just as Zola and his Americans top another. There’s a city up ahead, ancient, full of lifeless stone and sand. Hamunaptra.

“ _No,_ ” Sharon snaps. “They don’t get to get there first!” She sends her camel into a run, Sam and Barnes at her heels. They beat the Americans, which feels like an accomplishment. They set up their camp before the Americans, too. 

It takes days, but they also find something first. They find a mummy, some sort of ancient priest, before the Americans. Within hours, the Americans find some canopic jars and the Book of the Dead, and Sam has to tug Sharon away as she salivates at the mention of the book.

They don’t drink before the Americans. Sharon doesn’t particularly mind. She knows she isn’t great at holding her liquor.

“Never thought to bring beer,” Barnes muses.

Sam leans against an obelisk, absently playing with a deck of cards. “Sounds like they’ve got something stronger than beer.”

“You know, we could go borrow some,” Barnes suggests.

“I don’t think I can just traipse over and ask to borrow some gin,” Sam says congenially.

Barnes eyes him. “Why don’t you show me how well you traipse, and I’ll judge?”

Sam looks at Barnes as if the man is absolutely insane.

“Barnes will steal some,” Sharon announces decisively. “Since he’s the one who will face the fewest consequences when he gets caught.”

“When?” Barnes echoes. “Also, did you ask him how he got the map?”

“A shop,” Sam says, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. “It was on clearance.”

Sharon stares at him, looking incredulous. “You stole it from him? You said you bought it from someone who stole it from someone else!”

“He could have stolen it from someone else,” Sam suggests defensively. He turns to Barnes. “Did you?”

Barnes gapes at him. “ _No._ ”

“Oh.” He looks back to Sharon. Despite the conversation, his expression implies he’ll be adjusting his halo any moment now. “Whoops.”

Sharon covers her face in her hands. “It isn’t right.”

Barnes nods. “You tell him.”

“I’ve been asking you to teach me how to steal things for _years._ ”

“Wait, what?”

“And you keep stealing stuff without me?”

“Wait.” Barnes gets to his feet, and Sam claps him on the shoulder.

“I’ll take care of Sharon’s immorality,” Sam says cheerfully. “Very disappointed in her and all that. Why don’t you go get our American friends to share?”

“Unbelievable,” Barnes says, heading off through the ruins. He can hear them behind them, and he could swear Sharon just called him a sucker.

* * *

That night, Barnes learns that neither of them is good at holding their alcohol. Sam is asleep within an hour. Sharon is asking Barnes if he knows what a place like her is doing in a girl like this. He himself doesn’t drink much, not in this place, so he’s perfectly equipped to ask Sharon what _is_ a place like her doing in a girl like this.

She sobers, but only in a metaphorical sense. “I,” she says slowly, “am greatness undiscovered.”

“Are you,” he asks, appreciating her solemnity.

She nods. “We both are. But we’re never going to be discovered. I’m a woman, and Sam, he’s Black. Most people don’t want people like us to succeed. At all. So we _have_ to succeed. Because-” She frowns, biting the inside of her lip as she tries to think of the words. “Because those people do not have the right to dictate our limitations when they only see our surface and never the depth.”

“Huh.” He watches her, watches her emphatic and slightly off-balanced nods. “I think you have depth.”

She pulls back, her nose wrinkled. “Is that an entenu- entenndo- a entenuandre?”

“Maybe?” Barnes says, honestly not knowing. “So how did you and Sam become friends?”

“His mother worked for my household. He was my first playmate. And after my mother fell ill and died, and then my father lost most of his fortune and followed her…” She shrugs. “Sam and Mrs. Wilson continued to look in on me. I returned the favor. They’re the closest I have to family.” She starts to sniffle, and he wonders if she’s the sort that gets emotional when she drinks.

“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to cut her off before she starts bawling. He’s never known what to do around bawling women. And he hadn’t cared when he’d lost his own parents – he has no idea how to comfort her over losing hers.

“Mrs. Wilson’s puddings were _so_ good!” Sharon cries. She wipes her face with a sleeve and takes a breath. “I have to find the Book of Amun-Ra. I have to. I owe Sam and his mother so much. And she isn’t around anymore, so I owe Sam even _more._ ” She looks over at Sam, who mutters something in his sleep and shifts.

“We’ll keep looking tomorrow,” Barnes tells her.

She looks back at him. “He’s asleep.”

“Yes,” Barnes says slowly. “He’s been asleep for a while.”

Sharon turns back to him, her eyes wide. “That means-” She giggles. “Wait. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She hops up, swaying as she stumbles away, and he almost follows before deciding better of it. Maybe she’s relieving herself, after all.

Turns out, she is _not_ relieving herself. It’s nearly half an hour before he hears a quiet, “Oomf!” shortly followed by an “Ouch!”

He stands. “Sharon?” His face falls when she nears the fire, carrying something heavy in her arms. “You and Sam are both going to get me into trouble.”

She clutches the Book of the Dead to her chest and turns her chest away from him. “We saved you from excommunication. Or did you forget?”

He blinks. “Excommunication.”

She nods, then pauses as she realizes something is wrong with that. Her eyes narrow. “Yes,” she says slowly, her brain still addled enough she can’t find a flaw with her words.

Barnes sighs.

“I haven’t forgotten the kiss, either. By the way,” Sharon continues. “Quite rude.”

“I thought I was about to die! You were the only woman around who wasn’t a violent laundress.”

“What?”

“They used to whack me,” he explains. “I was terrified of them. I would never have kissed _them._ ”

She frowns at him in confusion. “You only kissed me because you thought you were about to die and I wasn’t a laundress?”

“Well. Mostly the first one. But the second didn’t hurt.”

Her lips form a tight line. 

He doesn’t know women very well and makes no claim that he does, but he knows that is _not_ a good way for a woman to look at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” A withering glare, interrupted only by how she sways and has to catch herself, and then she turns the book over with her hands.

“I can’t _believe_ you stole that.”

“They were sleeping. Now hush.” She turns it over, nearly dropping it as she runs her hands over it. Admitting, at least to herself, that she isn’t sober enough to do multiple things at one time, she sits heavily and pulls the book into her lap, then gasps and crawls to her bags. 

Barnes clears his throat, thinking she’s much less ladylike when she’s got her rump waving in the air. He politely turns away, and when he looks back, she’s somehow opened the book and is reading it, her brow drawn in consternation.

She shakes her head, then slowly reads it aloud as if that might help. She nods to herself and continues.

A cold wind sweeps through the camp, challenging the flames of the fire, and Barnes glances at Sharon. “Are you sure you should be doing that?”

She waves a dismissive hand at him. “No harm ever came from reading a book, Mr. Barnes.”

“Bucky.”

She lifts her head.

He shrugs. “You might as well call me Bucky.”

“Oh. Um. You might as well call me Sharon.” Before he can say more, she turns back to the book and picks up her reading. The wind continues, then picks up.

Thinly, on the wind, Barnes can hear someone screaming not to read the book. Without thinking, he grabs the book and snaps it shut.

The wind dies down, but there’s a hum in the air.

Sam snorts awake. “Somebody leave a fan on?” he slurs.

Barnes moves forward, and Sharon uses his hand to tug herself to her feet. The deep blue of the night sky in the distance is being shadowed by something gray and dark and moving closer. “Pack up,” he says quickly.

They didn’t hire him for his looks, and they oblige. Even as inebriated as Sam and Sharon are, they’re nearly done packing by the time the locusts descend on them.

“Gross!” Sam swats some of them away, only for more to replace them. “We need to get underground!”

Barnes shakes his head. “Worse is down there. Trust me. We need to get out of here. We need to get away from the city.” He pulls the camels’ leads, forcing Sam and Sharon to follow on foot since they were too slow to get on the camels.

Outside the city, everything is still. Looking back, they see a figure on the wall, tall and wrapped in robes.

“That’s not one of the Americans, is it?” Sam asks.

They hear screams from inside the wall.

The man on the wall leans his head back, and a cloud of locusts fly into the sky.

“Did those just come out of his mouth?” Sam asks, glancing at the others, who seem just as perplexed as he is. 

When the figure on the wall straightens, he makes a reaching motion to Sharon. “ANCK-SU-NAMUN!”

Sharon looks at the other two. “That’s not about me.”

“ANCK-SU-NAMUUUUUUUUN.”

She climbs onto her camel. It takes her a couple attempts to get it right. “I think we’ve got enough for now. We can always regroup in Cairo.”

“Agreed,” Sam says, scrambling up his own camel.

Sharon hesitates as more screams fill the air. “The others, though…”

Barnes grabs the reins of her camel. “Nope. They have more weapons and more supplies. Maybe we’ll see them in Cairo. In the meantime, we’re getting the hell out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three must return to Hamunaptra to find the Book of Amun Ra and destroy the mummy once and for all!

Cairo is all the more surreal for its normalcy. After the time they’ve had, all three of them feel discombobulated as they pick their way through the streets on their camels, dodging people, cats, rats, and piles of trash.

“That _did_ happen, right?” Sam asks when they arrive at a British outpost on the far side of town.

“Pretty sure,” Sharon says.

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice, in contrast, is firm. “That’s why I didn’t want to take you there. That’s why I told you not to go.”

“You didn’t argue _too_ much,” Sharon points out.

“You make it hard to say no.” He looks at her, realizes how that sounds, and turns away. “By which I mean that you’re both impossible to argue with. Come on.”

Behind his back, Sharon and Sam look at each other.

“He’s so weird,” Sharon says quietly.

Sam nods. “Should we keep an eye on him?”

She looks after Bucky. _Bucky._ She can’t believe they’re supposed to call a grown man that and not worry about him. “You do it. I haven’t had a proper bath since before I fell in the Nile.”

* * *

Sam deserves a bath, too, so he focuses on that before he tracks down Bucky. Even though he’s an American, it appears Bucky is civilized enough to have taken a bath as well, and he’s clapping a man on the back as Sam walks up.

“Steve! This is Sam. Sam, Steve. Steve was a pilot in the War.”

“And now look at me,” Steve says in mocking cheer. There isn’t much to look at. The guy wouldn’t be ninety pounds if he were soaking wet and wearing weights.

Bucky shakes his head. “Ah, come on, man. You don’t need a war to live.”

Steve snorts. “What sort of life is this?” he demands. He’s more than a little hammered, slurring his words. “Wasting away. Could have gone down with my brothers, but noooo…”

“What a great argument,” Bucky says soothingly, prying the cup from Steve’s hand. He glances around for the bartender. “Another water for my friend here, please. A water for each of us, pl-” He sniffs the cup, then looks disdainfully at Steve. “Steve. _Is_ this water?”

“No,” Steve says, sounding too defensive by far. “It’s gin. With water.”

The waters are set in front of Bucky, and Bucky shoves one toward Steve. The other goes toward Sam. Bucky takes the one sip, and promptly spits it out.

Sam looks at his water in distaste. Would a beer have been so awful, Bucky? “It can’t be _that_ bad. My drink’s just _water._ ” He takes a sip and spits it out, just as Bucky had. Steve spits out his, too, and as Sam turns, he sees everyone else spitting out their drinks as well. And the water in the fountain has turned red and thick.

“Blood,” Bucky says grimly. “That’s blood, right?”

“Tasted like it,” Steve agrees.

Both Sam and Bucky give him a disgusted look. Neither asks how he knows what blood tastes like.

“I’m so glad I already took a bath,” Sam says.

Bucky jumps to his feet. “Sharon.”

“You don’t think-” Sam frowns, remembering how the figure on the wall had screamed at them. A name of some sort. “Maybe he meant one of us?”

“She’s got all the stuff we found,” Bucky says, already heading out of the room. Sam hurriedly follows.

* * *

Sharon sits in her bed, playing with their spoils from Hamunaptra. Well, not _playing,_ exactly. But she’s got their findings spread out before her and is organizing them and writing notes with a sense of satisfaction only known to cats and gods. She also has her ill-gained Book of the Dead at her side, and occasionally she looks at it and hums to herself.

A cat jumps in through the window, and she glares at it. “You’d better not have fleas,” she tells it, and it jumps onto her bed and slides under her palm as if expecting to be petted. It looks clean enough. Cared for. And the cat is rather friendly, really. “Fine, fine,” she says, giving in and giving it a stroke as she moves her precious objects aside. The Bembridge scholars can kiss her rear.

A gust of wind roars into the room, and she yelps and jumps up to close the shutters on the windows. The cat sprints away so fast she can hear its claws tearing holes in her sheets.

She coughs and shuts her eyes as the storm outside kicks sand into her face, stumbling forward, hands fumbling for the shutters. Where had the storm come- Is that skin? She feels around a bit more. It really does feel like skin. As a matter of fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d say that’s-

The wind dies, the sand falls, and she opens her eyes.

Yes. That is a bare chest.

She jerks her hand behind her back as if stung and looks up at a man who looks at her all too knowingly. He’d be handsome if it weren’t for- Oh. Oh, dear. Half his face is rotted.

She gasps and steps back.

As she watches, a scarab up his neck and into his cheek. He opens his mouth and chomps down on it with his teeth; she can hear the scarab’s shell break inside his mouth.

She stumbles back and falls to the floor with an unladylike curse. An unwashed Bucky no longer seems so disgusting.

“Thank you for restoring me from the Underworld,” he says, his voice rough in his not-wholly-formed throat. “Anck-su-namun…” He begins to crouch beside her, reaching for her face, and she tries to crawl backward. It would be easier if her feet could gain purchase on the floor instead of the skirts of her nightgown.

The cat slithers out from under the bed and hisses.

The man looks at the cat in shock and horror. He straightens just as Sharon’s door opens, and she hears Bucky shout her name and then gunshots. She covers her head as the man explodes into countless particles of sand in hurricane-force winds. Her shutters bang against the walls, and then everything goes silent.

She pushes herself up, blinking at her mess of a room. After a moment, she finds the cat and pulls it into her lap. “I have a new appreciation of these things,” she announces, holding the cat to her as her heart calms.

“My bullets didn’t do anything to it,” Bucky complains, looking at his guns. He pauses. “What’s with the cat?”

“According to Egyptian mythology, cats are the guardians of the Underworld. I think he’s afraid of them.” She strokes the cat thoughtfully. “He said I restored him to life.”

“’No harm ever came of reading a book!’” Bucky says, his tone scathing.

Sam crosses over and pulls Sharon to her feet. “Okay. _Okay._ So… is the undead guy going to leave us alone now?”

Sharon frowns, trying to come up with an answer. Before she can speak, a loud crash sounds outside, followed by another and another.

Bucky runs to her windows and throws open the shutters. “There’s hail,” he announces. “In Egypt.”

Sam bites his lip. “Hail. Locusts. Water turning to blood.”

“Wait,” Sharon says. “What about blood?”

“We’re dealing with the ten plagues,” Sam says, as if that explains everything.

Sharon stares at him.

Bucky nods. “And it started after Sharon read from that Book.”

“Hey,” Sharon says defensively. “You didn’t stop me.” At the look they give her, she holds up her hands. “Okay. _Neither_ of you stopped me.”

They stare at her. 

“Sam knows I get drunk easily, and Bucky, you were _awake._ ”

Sam crosses his arms. “Want to try again, O Only One Here Who Reads Egyptian?”

She rolls her eyes. “I read ancient _heiro-_ ” At Sam’s look, she closes her mouth and worries the inside of her lip as she thinks. Ten plagues. Fine. Resurrected mummies. Fine. She can handle this. It isn’t gin. “If the Book of the Dead raised him from the dead, it follows that the Book of Amun-Ra, its opposite, would kill him again, right? Restore the balance?”

Sam points between him and Bucky. “We don’t know this stuff. You do.”

She crosses her arms, tapping her fingers against her elbow. “It should work. We just have to figure out how to do it.” She looks at Bucky. “Do you know where the Book of Amun-Ra is?”

“No,” he says dryly. “I still don’t know. Just like I didn’t all the other times you asked me.”

She frowns. “But we know it’s in Hamunaptra.”

They go quiet as they remember the last time they were there. The screams they’d heard as they’d run away.

“Any way we can avoid that?” Sam asks hopefully.

She looks at Bucky, also hopeful.

He scowls at them. “She’s the only one who can read and speak Ancient Egyptian. You and me could bail, Sam.”

Sharon gasps at the rudeness, but is comforted by Sam’s hand around hers.

“Fine,” Bucky says, clearly not happy about it. “Let’s go back to the hellhole.”

Sharon frowns. “I wonder if there might be something here, though. I mean, not _here._ At the Cairo Museum. We couldn’t find anything at Hamunaptra to help us find the Book of Amun-Ra, but maybe there are clues as to where else to look?” She looks toward the window.

“We can wait until morning?” Bucky suggests, no doubt remembering her previous foray into crime. And likely trying to delay returning to Hamunaptra.

“Nope!” Her eyes are alight with the mystery at hand. She has a mission now, and she’s going to see it through.

Sam, recognizing that glint in her eye, only groans.

* * *

There’s an eclipse on the way to the museum. The three of them look at it as they shuffle along, then look at each other.

“I don’t believe in signs,” Sharon says, still impatient. She has all their discovers in a knapsack on her back; Sam and Bucky had both offered to carry it, but she doesn’t want the precious objects out of reach.

“You don’t have to,” Sam points out. “That’s not a sign. That’s a billboard shrieking at us that we’re in over our heads.”

She frowns at him. “If you’d like to take this to the police…”

Sam scowls at her.

Sharon scowls back. They only stop when they get to the museum. Wanting access to the museum’s storage areas, Sharon leads the two men around the back of the building. Sharon tells the guard at the back gate that she and her assistants have been sent by Dr. Philip Coulson of the British Museum to talk to Dr. Bey. They’re waved into the museum, and Bucky stares at Sharon. “How did that work?”

“Who would steal Egyptian artifacts from a museum?” she asks. “Why not just get them outside? And besides, most security is just for show.”

Bucky stares at her, then turns to Sam.

Sam lifts his hands. “She’s better at asserting her authority. I’m better at pickpocketing.”

“And you’re both con artists,” Bucky says.

“Not really,” Sam says peaceably. “More like opportunists. Like you.”

Bucky scowls, but he can’t think of a suitable argument against it yet.

Sharon leads them through several doors and then pauses as she works out which way to go from there. They follow her as she walks around the museum, muttering to herself, eventually taking them into the museum’s catacombs, where a giant filing system sits. She spends a couple minutes cross-referencing things, then leads them elsewhere.

“Is she always like this?” Bucky asks, now having no idea where they are. He knows they’re somewhere in the museum, but nothing more.

“This is her at her most mild,” Sam says, following along.

“GOT IT!” Sharon finally exclaims. She’s quickly shushed by a nearby patron and hurries over to rejoin Sam and Bucky. “I found some leads on where the Book of Amun Ra might be. And I also found why the mummy appears to be after us!”

“Because you raised him from the dead,” Bucky explains, evidently thinking it’s obvious.

“And he wants to use me to reincarnate his dead forbidden lover,” she says with relish. She looks at the pair of them, excited. She pauses. “We need to get to Hamunaptra.” She looks at her wrist before realizing she isn’t wearing a watch. “How soon can we get there?”

Bucky groans. “Can’t we wait until morning?”

Sharon shrugs. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can put the mummy back in the ground.” She rubs her hands together. “And the sooner nothing will stand in the way of us and the Book of Amun Ra. A book made of solid _gold._ ”

Bucky sighs. “Fine. I might know a way to get us there fast.” He turns and leads the way to the museum entrance. 

Behind him, he hears Sam say, “And don’t think we’re going to forget that you literally _raised a mummy from the dead._ You’re never gonna live that down.”

“I’m powerful,” Sharon says defensively.

Bucky sighs again.

* * *

“Sometimes I think I should have died with all my friends back in the War,” Steve shouts to Sharon and Sam over the roar of the engines.

“That’s nice,” Sharon shouts back, wondering if she’ll sound more comfortable at a louder volume. “Do you ferry people very often?”

“Not unless there’s a chance I might die!” Steve shouts back cheerfully.

Sharon and Sam look at one another, then look at Bucky, who shrugs.

“Neat!” Sharon yells, before making a face at Sam. _What am I supposed to say to that?_ she mouths.

Sam shrugs and shakes his head.

“Are things dangerous in Hamanopoli?” Steve shouts.

“Hamunaptra!” Sharon corrects.

“Or there!” Steve replies.

“Death’s pretty much guaranteed,” Bucky shouts, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

“Finally!”

* * *

“That guy,” Sam says as they walk to the city, leaving Steve with the plane, “has issues.”

“He has more issues than I’ve ever seen,” Sharon agrees. “And I used to work in a library.”

“He’s-” Bucky fails to think of an adequate excuse and shrugs. “Yeah. Okay. So what now?”

Sharon skips a little to move into the lead. “We need to find the statue of Horus. There, in the base at his feet, we find the Book of Amun Ra. We read from it, we restore the natural order. We become famous. We become rich. We celebrate.”

“We don’t have to avoid mummies or fight off other archaeologists and all the treasure is ours,” Sam adds.

Bucky looks at them both incredulously. “And Sharon isn’t sacrificed to bring back a dead woman.”

Sharon and Sam look at each other. “And that,” Sharon says.

“I guess,” Sam mutters.

She shoves him in the arm, and they walk down the old, sand-covered paths to the entrance they’d previously used to enter beneath the city.

Just inside the entrance, they stop and set down their bags to pull out their torches, and then they get to work. They’re quickly in unfamiliar territory, with Sam shining his torch over the jeweled murals. 

“Do you think the Americans got this far?” Sharon asks. She studies the murals beside him, looking for a clue as to Horus’s location. She won’t admit it to them yet, but she hadn’t thought the statue would be so hard to find.

Sam shines his torch around the corner to find a door. After a quick check for traps, he shoves it open, then blinks. “Uh. No. No, they did not. Otherwise, they would have mentioned this.” He holds up the torch. Around him, the light glints off golden treasure.

Bucky moves to stand beside him. He stares. The room seems to go on forever, and from the limited light, it looks like it’s covered in gold and jewels. “We’re splitting, right? A third apiece?”

“We didn’t agree to that,” Sharon sniffs as she walks past. Everything her light touches shines and shimmers, and they follow in silence, awed. “We’re looking for the statue of Horus,” she reminds them. “So the world doesn’t end and we can actually _enjoy_ our rich and magnificent fame and fortune.”

“Right,” Sam says. “Right.” He looks at Bucky, who looks back, and as one they each grab a piece of gold and shove it into their pockets. Just in case.

Bucky thinks Sam might have been right about him being an opportunist.

* * *

She isn’t sure how they got separated. There are plenty of things to distract them, and she can only hope they’re searching for the damn statue.

She rounds a corner and comes face to face with a familiar man whose eyes glitter as he looks at her. It’s a handsome face, complete and flesh-like. Wait. Did his mouth just move?

He’s real. Oh, crap. He’s real.

She screams in surprise and shoves the torch in his face, then turns and runs.

The mummy yells in pain and anger and gives chase.

“Sharon?” Sam calls out. “What’s happening?”

“MUMMY HERE MUMMY HERE.” Behind her, she can hear scarabs skittering along the floor. She doesn’t know if they’re in pursuit or if the ruins simply have a huge pest problem.

“FOUND THE STATUE!” Bucky shouts. “SAM! Help me!”

“Help _him?_ ” Sharon grouses. She turns around a corner and grunts as she bounces off the man from the boat, the wily, sniveling one.

“Hello, Anck-su-na-mOOF!” He falls to the side, and she straightens the torch in her hands. She looks at it, impressed at how well it works as a bat, and then hears the scarabs behind her and flees again.

“WE GOT IT OPEN!” Sam shouts. “IT’S WRITTEN IN PICT-”

“MUMMY HERE MUMMY HERE!” Bucky shouts. 

Sharon hears gunshots and skids to a halt as Sam runs past her, throwing the book into her hands as he goes. She fumbles with it as she tries not to drop her torch.

Once she’s got it safely in her hands, she tries to open it one-handed, only to find Sam running back toward her. “BUGS THERE BUGS THERE.” He grabs her arm and pulls her along.

She shoves him into the shadows. She hears Bucky yell as he’s flung across the room. “Good job!” she shouts into the darkness. “Keep him busy!” She shoves the Book of Amun Ra into Sam’s arms, not even taking a moment to enjoy its beauty. She bends down to read aloud, the torch close to the golden pages.

“Sure thing,” Bucky gripes, sliding down a pile of gold and jewels. “Keep him busy, she says. Keep him b- OW!”

Sharon ignores his shouts as Sam’s eyes follow Bucky’s body as he flies in the opposite direction. Her torch flickers, and she narrows her eyes at the heiroglyphs.

Sam curses under his breath and starts backing up; the mummy has realized what they’re up to and is currently advancing on them.

Sharon follows, still reading. She reads the final syllable and straightens, only for her arm to be grabbed by the mummy.

Sam jumps forward, punching the mummy in the face. “What’s he still doing here?” he demands as he pulls her away. “Did you do it right?”

“Of course I did it right!” Sharon snaps. She looks at the mummy in distaste. “He’s mortal now.”

“In that case,” Bucky says. He doesn’t move from where he’s landed on a pile of gold, only moving his hand to draw his gun. One cracking sound, and they stand in silence, surrounded by gold and jewels, the body of an immortal at their feet.

Sharon moves forward and nudges the body with a foot. After a beat, she exhales in relief.

She turns.

Sam stares at her. “Is this place going to disappear now? Like a fairy tale?” he asks. As if he thinks it might, he turns and starts stuffing his pockets.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Bucky says. But not before grabbing a nearby box made of gold and inlaid with jewels and making sure it’s as full of jewels as he can get it.

After a moment, Sharon does the same. It doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side.

Outside, Steve meets them at the city gates. “You won’t believe this,” Steve tells them. “I think I saw a wizard. He just… flew in on a cloud of sand and scarabs. Had a little fellow with him.”

They stare at him.

“I’m sure you didn’t, pal,” Bucky says, his tone consoling.

Steve wipes his brow. “I think I need to rethink this rush-to-die thing. I think it’s messing with my head.”

* * *

Sam, fortunately, is wrong about everything disappearing like in a fairy tale. Once the mummy is gone, everything settles down. Sharon has time to excavate Hamunaptra at her leisure, immortalizing all of their names in archaeology.

It doesn’t hurt that they’re inconceivably rich.

“We won’t have to scrounge for a job any more,” Sharon says after their first visit to a bank since arriving back in England. She looks over the dreary street with its gray fog. “But I’ll admit it. It was fun, almost dying.”

Bucky tsks.

“I’m sure we can find another way for you to almost die,” Sam tells her cheerfully. He frowns at the London buildings, with the men milling around them in their pencil-thin mustaches and meticulously-styled hair. In contrast, the three of them are dressed more for comfort than fashion. They might be rich enough to belong in London, but he doesn’t feel like they _belong_ in London. He sighs. “We need another adventure.” He elbows Bucky in the arm. “You in?”

He considers. He’s gotten accustomed to them somehow. And they’re right. Having found themselves in Egypt, they don’t quite belong in London. Of course, he’d _never_ belonged in London. “Someone’s got to keep you two alive.”

Sharon can’t hide her relief. She’d been hoping they’d say that. “Well? Let’s go find trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all are interested in helping choose the prompts for next year's Sharon Carter Month, please vote [here!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1goHBjj2uGHsi5JVNTwyxcFecFHwsTkSPIbtbZKe7eQ0/edit) And thank you for reading!


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